


Finding What's Lost

by foxy11814



Category: White Collar
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Family, Father-Son Relationship, Gen, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-12-28
Updated: 2015-03-14
Packaged: 2018-03-03 22:24:00
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 8,756
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2890124
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/foxy11814/pseuds/foxy11814
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This picks up where season six leaves off: Neal left Peter clues to figure out his greatest con. Where does everyone go from here?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Okay, so I know this is going to be one of perhaps many stories picking up where the series left off, but I just had to throw my hand into the hat. I'm posting this chapter now to see if anyone is interested in where I think things could go from here. I'll go ahead and say I will be using something Jeff Eastin recently said in an interview about where he could imagine things going on for Peter and Neal in the future. I will also say that I'm a big fan of Peter and Neal's friendship that sometimes bordered on father-and-son territory. This story will definitely have that aspect, as well as drama and action! Who knows? I might throw some whump in there, as well, haha. *winks* Anyway, please let me know what you think!
> 
> Oh, and as for the title, this could and does refer to many things, not just the obvious.

**Finding What's Lost**

Rain trickled down the glass of his window slowly as he stared out of the vacation rental apartment that he had stayed in for the better part of a year. He wasn't the only person in Paris to stay in one of these homes for longer than a year. When people of means vacationed in Paris, they tended to stay for a while because it was the only way to take _all_ of it in. While he usually considered his reasons for doing things in life far different from the average person's, he found it ironic that he could actually state a reason for coming that matched so many others' this time: the Louvre.

It was definitely _one_ of the reasons why he was there:

The Louvre had announced to the world about its upgraded security. It was supposedly impenetrable. That was exactly the kind of challenge the old Neal Caffrey would have enjoyed undertaking. The old Neal Caffrey would have loved to refute their claim as quickly as possible—within weeks or months of their assertion—but he found it impossible because their enhancements really were good. He had seen quickly that he would need help if he really wanted to do the job. He had suspected that from the very beginning, even before he had arrived in France. And, _that_ presented a problem: he didn't want to work with a team. Not yet. It was still too soon.

He closed his eyes as he rested his forehead against the cool glass and sighed. Who was he fooling? He couldn't con himself no matter how much he wanted to. The reason he hadn't made a play yet was because he was still unsure about who he was to become, who he is…

Neal Caffrey was no longer among the living, at least officially, and that left open so many possibilities: should he allow the siren call of the Louvre to overwhelm him or should he listen to that part of himself that sounded a lot like Peter nowadays and choose to live the "honest" life?

Peter.

There wasn't a day that went by that he hadn't thought about the man. He wondered everyday if Peter figured out the clues he had left behind. From Mozzie's account of things, it seemed like he hadn't, and before he had thought any better of it, Neal had practically begged his friend to give Peter a little nudge in the right direction. Supposedly, Moz had done it. He had shown Peter the card, explained what could have been the greatest con in Neal Caffrey's life, and then left.

Had it been enough? Peter had everything else, he knew: the key to the trailer, the bullet…he knew Peter was smart enough to figure it out.

Neal stepped away from the glass and shook his head. " _Why does it matter_?" he asked himself silently. Did he simply want Peter to know he was alive? Or, did he want Peter to chase him?

Either could be seen as selfish. Peter had settled down. He was a 9 to 5—sometimes 6—guy now. He had a son to look out for. He didn't have the time to jump on a plane and chase down cons who had filled up so many years of his life with chaos and havoc. Neal knew he had done the most unselfish thing in his life when he decided to leave New York, Neal Caffrey, and Peter Burke behind.

Now, he had possibly screwed all of that up, and why?

"Because I miss him," he whispered softly.

He felt instinctively rather than heard someone approach him from behind. "And, I dare say he misses you," a familiar voice muttered.

Neal turned around and smiled ruefully at Moz.

The other didn't chastise Neal despite the fact that he obviously knew what the younger man was thinking. Because Moz normally would have, Neal didn't know if his friend was still angry at him or not. He had every right to be. Neal had kept him out of the loop for the longest time, but he had needed it to happen that way. In order for Peter, the Pink Panthers, and everyone else to believe Neal Caffrey really was dead, _Moz_ had to believe it—he had to stick around in New York for a while. If he had simply disappeared into the night, Peter might have given chase right away, and that might have led him straight to Paris. It would have ruined everything, all of his plans to keep Peter, El, and their son safe. They all needed time-the passing of time was a comfort. It made it easy for those who needed to forget to forget, after all. He supposed after a year, that's why he wanted to push the envelope and figure out what Peter knew. If Peter had figured out the clues, maybe he understood then and now that the only way to remain safe was to stay away indefinitely. Neal could understand that…

He just wished he knew what Peter knew! Sometimes he felt that if he did know, he'd then be able to make decisions about his own life, about where to go and what to do from here.

As things stood now, he didn't have a clue.

=)=)=)

Peter stared at the screen in front of him and El peered over his shoulder.

"Hon, are you still debating? It seems like you've been sitting there for days."

The FBI agent brought his hands to his face and rubbed at his eyes tiredly. Without glancing at her, he replied, "I feel like I've been sitting here for days." He lowered the screen of his laptop shut and turned slightly on the couch to face his wife as she walked around the furniture to stand beside him. "What if I'm right?"

El bit her lip slowly and looked over at Neal, their son. She sighed and whispered, "I think you already know the answer as to whether you're right or not. I think what you're really debating is what you should do about it."

Peter nodded reluctantly before he turned to look at Little Neal, as well. "I…want to go," he admitted softly. "I want to go to Paris and _find_ him. He left me the clues. He obviously wanted me to know he's still alive."

El interrupted, "But does that mean he wants you to follow him?" She shook her head. "Peter, he left for a reason—Neal always had reasons for everything he did. Whatever it was this time, it had to be a good one. You know he never would have left us otherwise." She then walked across the room and picked up her son from the day crib she had set him in earlier. She then sat down next to Peter and her husband immediately ran his fingers through the baby's soft dark curls. She leaned her head on Peter's shoulders and continued, "The night before the operation, Neal told me that we were his family. He promised me he would keep you safe…and I can't help but believe that this, and everything that happened that day, was him keeping that promise."

Peter pursed his lips together and nodded. He believed that, too.

He faced the laptop again and lifted the screen once more. On it, there was information to buy tickets to Paris, France. He stared at it for a few seconds more before turning back to look at El.

"Hon," he said beseechingly.

She knew that tone and nodded slowly.

=)=)=)

_All comments are appreciated. Let me know what you think, please!_


	2. Chapter 2

Finding What's Lost Chapter 2

Peter sat in his office and stared down into the bullpen of officers as they hurriedly went through their cases in various ways. Some were on the computer researching (hopefully they were researching and not playing games or surfing the web), some were on the phone getting information, some were filing cases that they had solved or had grown cold, and some…

He closed and rubbed at his eyes as he propped his elbow on the arm of his chair and swiveled around, still seated, to face the window. " _What am I doing?_ " he thought with a slight chuckle that did not belie the intense look on his face. Of course, he didn't have to ask himself—he already knew. He was trying to distract himself.

He had made a decision last night. All he had to do was set it into motion. N _ow_ was the perfect time to make his move while everything was changing. Diana was leaving for D.C., a few new agents were coming in to try to take her place on his…on _Jones'_ White Collar Task Force. It would be the perfect time for someone in his position to take a little vacation. He could claim (even though he didn't have to answer to anyone here—still he knew Jones would be curious) that he wanted one before the place got too hectic with new faces and establishing a new routine after Diana's departure.

If Neal's sudden absence had taught him anything last year, it was that there was definitely going to be some kind of adjustment period in the office for everyone. Everyone would have to get used to the fact that she wasn't there anymore. Even people who hadn't worked with her as closely as he had would still need to adjust slightly, because "that spoke in the wheel" was no longer there to help carry the load, so to speak. He was just thankful that her parting wasn't as dramatic as Neal's. This one would be easier to cope with. Not that he didn't love Diana like family, too, but he knew he wouldn't be seeing her in window reflections or out of the corner of his eye after she left. Still…it was the excuse he needed.

A slight knock was heard on the frame of his door and he turned his chair back around to see Jones hovering in the doorway. He immediately smiled and waved him in. "Hey," he greeted, trying to go for carefree and relaxed until he saw the nervous look on his visitor's face. "Hey," he said, getting up out of his chair. "Is something wrong, Jones?" He placed a hand on his shoulder and the younger man literally jumped in surprise.

He stepped back a little and laughed obviously at himself. "Sorry, Boss. Everything is fine. I just…I came to ask a favor."

Immediately, Peter felt his stomach tie into knots. " _Please don't tell me you want a vacation. Please don't tell me you want a vacation…_ " The mantra started in his head and he couldn't get it to stop. He was almost in a near panic, because if he was going to leave for Paris, he needed Jones around to watch things for him. There was no one here that he trusted more and he didn't want them both to be gone at the same time. Instead of acknowledging his thoughts or saying any of it aloud, he took a deep breath, which he hid by turning around and going back to his desk. "Sure. What can I do for you?" he asked as he calmly sat down in his chair. Neal would have been proud of his performance.

Jones approached the desk and said, "Diana called. She needs help loading a few last things into her U-Haul. She forgot about a storage unit she had and realized this morning that she wanted to get some things from it. She asked if I could help. I know I don't usually ask to leave early, but I was wondering if I could…"

Before Jones could say anything else, Peter waved his hand dismissively and said happily, "Sure, go on. Go help Diana out."

Immediately, Jones smiled and thanked him. As soon as the younger agent turned around to leave, Peter decided the time was now or never.

He closed his eyes briefly before calling out, "Jones, actually I have a favor to ask of you, too…"

=)=)=)

Neal stared at the ceiling of his apartment and smirked at himself. It was early in the afternoon, at least by his old standards in New York, and already he was in bed.

Mozzie called it depression. Neal called it exhaustion.

He felt like his head was going ninety miles an hour down an interstate with numerous winding exits every ten feet. It was hard and overwhelming to choose one, but he knew he had to eventually. He couldn't just drive in this straight line forever. He needed to make a choice, even if it killed him.

Tightening his hands into fists, he drove them into the mattress beneath him. All he had to do was make a choice. It should be easy! His life was nothing if not one hard decision after another! He had never been so indecisive in his life and it was completely frustrating!

Shaking his head, he jumped out of bed and practically marched into the living room. Mozzie was still there, enjoying a glass of Pinot noir if he went by the bottle that was currently sitting on the table in front of his friend.

"Decided to get up?" Moz asked without looking at him.

Neal wanted to yell, "Don't start!" After all, it wasn't like he had spent the whole day in bed. Sure, he had taken a few naps during the day, but that was normal for a guy who didn't have a job or things to do…

Things to do. Oh, he did have that.

Deciding not to give in to his frustration at Moz, he breathed deeply and stated decidedly, "I was thinking tomorrow we could case the Louvre together." He got it out before he could change his mind.

It was almost comical to see Mozzie's eyes widen to unbelievable proportions. He instantly looked like a gleeful child as he jumped to his feet and nearly shouted, "Are you serious? We're finally going to do it?"

Neal raised his hands and fanned the air lightly. "Calm down. I said 'case', Moz. We're not making a move, yet. This has to be done right if we're going to do it. It will take time." He looked down at the floor and knew he was talking to himself more than anyone else. After he had made his announcement, he had felt his heart jump into his throat and in the past, Neal Caffrey would have never had such a reaction to a challenging heist. He didn't want Mozzie to know how much his own words were bothering him, so he calmed himself by convincing himself that there was still time.

" _Time for what_?" he questioned himself. " _Time to figure out a foolproof plan? Time to change his mind? Time to keep pushing the job back? Time for Peter…_ "

He cringed at the mere thought of his name. "Of course," he mumbled.

"What?" Moz asked, but Neal shook his head and turned around. He walked out of the room and went back to his bedroom.

Of course, his thoughts would have to go _there_. "He's not coming," Neal whispered to himself as he settled back on the bed with an ungraceful flop. "I know you're used to Peter coming to talk you out of things when you're about to do something stupid, but that's not going to happen this time. There's no point in giving him time when he's not going to come."

He turned onto his side and stared out the window.

=)=)=)

_Let me know what you think!_


	3. Chapter 3

Finding What's Lost Chapter 3

Neal's eyes travelled across the Louvre cautiously and settled multiple times on the same thing again and again no matter where he went. Smirking slightly, he searched out Mozzie who was on the other side of the room probably monitoring the nearby security guards' actions.

No longer caring that someone could place them as being there together, he walked across the room and leaned close to Moz. "We have company," he whispered.

"What?" Moz hissed, momentarily dropping his act.

Neal knew undoubtedly that his friend was shocked to hear those words coming from his mouth. No one knew they were in Paris supposedly and it would be a huge problem if someone did find out. Luckily, that's not what was happening. Planting one of his patent dazzling smiles on his face, he turned his head slightly to the left to get Mozzie to look that way, as well. When Moz complied, Neal turned his peripheral to the security guard to make sure they didn't miss something while Moz was distracted.

It took only a few seconds for his companion to whisper, "Who is she?"

"I don't know," he replied, "but she's definitely casing the place as well. It looks as if we might have some competition."

"Amateur," Moz commented after watching her actions for a moment and Neal nodded with a slight chuckle.

He turned his attention back to the girl—who seemed to be an American, deduced from her attire and the few words he had heard her speak earlier when she had interacted with the museum's employees—and felt sorry for her. She had a lot going for her in the con department: red hair, blue eyes, a slim figure, and a supposed innocence that rolled off of her in waves. But, that was all she had going for her. Those attributes would be enough to hustle people on the streets, but this was the Louvre. Her technique was not good at all, so she was definitely going to get caught.

Acting on impulse, he headed in her direction.

"Ne…Chris!" Moz snapped softly to try to stop him.

Neal simply turned back and flashed him a brief smile before standing beside the young lady. Placing his hands in his pockets casually and rolling back on his heels once, he commented, "You're going to get caught."

Clearly startled, the young woman gasped and jumped slightly. She then glanced at him before casting her eyes around the room. "Excuse me?" she questioned.

Neal laughed softly and turned to face her straight on. "It's obvious what you're doing. If you're going to try to case a big mark like the Louvre, you might want to learn being a little more discrete."

Neal could see her throat convulse frantically before she wiped all emotion from her face. " _Okay, now that would have been impressive if she had maintained that demeanor the whole time_ ," he thought.

"I don't know what you're talking about," she replied calmly. "I'm just admiring the pieces here."

Neal nodded before pursing his lips almost a little smugly to grate on her nerves. He then smiled again and whispered, "Sure you are, but you do know what I'm talking about." He glanced back over his shoulder at Moz to see him raising his shoulders and hands questioningly. He then looked back at her, leaned closer, and asked, "Are you new at this?"

The woman immediately turned to walk away, but he reached out a hand to touch her shoulder lightly. "Hey, I'm not the police. I…just thought you might want to know you're being too obvious. You'll get caught just scoping out the place and not even doing anything yet."

The woman turned to stare at him for a few seconds before she asked, "Who are you?"

Neal sighed and thought, " _That is the million dollar question, isn't it_?" Aloud, he replied, "Chris. Chris Nix." He extended his hand and she eyed it cautiously before slipping her hand into his.

"Jessica," she replied.

When it became obvious she wouldn't be offering a last name, he grinned and stated, "I think we've done enough watching today. Why don't we go out and enjoy the afternoon?"

Finally, he got her to smile.

=)=)=)

"To tell the truth, hon, I'm a little excited."

Peter smiled at his wife distractedly as he strapped Neal's car seat between him and Elizabeth on the plane.

"I knew you wanted to go after Neal, but I had no idea you were going to bring us along."

Finally sitting down in his seat and watching El put their son into his seat, he replied, "Well, I did promise I wasn't going to allow this to distract me from you and our son, so I thought the best way to handle it was to take you with me. Not to mention, I thought you'd might like to see Neal again and he should meet this little guy if we find him." He grinned at his son and brushed a finger lightly across his cheek.

Neal laughed at his dad and grabbed onto his finger as tightly as he could.

El reached across the seat and brushed her finger's across the back of her husband's neck and his shoulder. "Hey, we will find him," she stated confidently, "and he's going to be so happy to meet his namesake." She smiled brightly. "I can't wait to see it."

Peter simply nodded and then tilted his head towards his lap. He couldn't respond any more than that, because he had a lot on his mind and he didn't want to share his thoughts with El, not just yet…

The truth was he had no idea if he was doing the right thing. He wasn't entirely sure if Neal wanted him to follow him to Paris, but he believed that the odds were there. Otherwise, why would Neal leave a newspaper to tell him exactly where he would be? He could have left that clue out and Peter still would have come to the conclusion that his partner was alive and well. And, if Neal did want him to follow him, the question then became "Why?" Did Neal want to come home? Was this his way of letting him know it was okay now for him and El to visit?

He sighed as his mind then supplied even crazier questions: Did Neal leave that particular newspaper, because he had something to do with the Louvre's heightened security? Was he now helping them and had a legit job under a newly established alias? Or, perhaps it was a cry for help? Did Neal want him to follow so he could stop him from doing something stupid like he so often did in the past? Or, maybe it was a taunt… Maybe Neal wanted to go back to their old cat-and-mouse games. Maybe he wanted Peter to know he was going to rob the Louvre, and it was his way of telling him he's back in the game.

Peter lifted his head and breathed deeply. He felt El's hand still on his shoulder, so he wasn't surprised when he turned to look at her that she said, "Everything's going to work out, hon. I just know it."

He hoped so; he truly hoped so.

=)=)=)

_Well, this chapter was a little shorter than the others, but I hope you still enjoyed it. Let me know! Comments are inspirational!_


	4. Chapter 4

Finding What's Lost Chapter 4

Neal walked easily through the Philou as if he didn't have a care in the world. It was a strange feeling after all the thoughts that had been swirling around in his mind since he had left New York. On his arm, he had Jessica before he chivalrously pulled out a chair for her to sit down. When he walked around the table and sat down, he couldn't help but grin at her.

As much as he hated to admit it, Jessica was serving as a well-needed distraction but he wasn't sure why. He supposed she was giving him something to think about other than everything he had lost, even though she did make him ask himself the same questions he had been asking himself all along: who is he? Who does he want to become? Jessica made him ask himself these questions, because he needed to figure out what he was going to do with her. If he was going to pull a heist at the Louvre, he didn't need Jessica heightening their security even more with her sloppy attempts at casing the place. To stop her, he could do several things: he could turn her in to the police, he could go the Louvre security and make them aware of her presence to get her out of the way quickly, or he could take her under his wing and teach her the finer ways of their art and craft. After all, if he decided to rob the Louvre, he needed a team…she could be useful.

When looking at things from this perspective, instead of trying to figure out what kind of man he wanted to be, it made the questions a little more bearable.

His thoughts were interrupted by Jessica. "As much as I do enjoy you staring at me, I have to ask, 'Why did you bring me here?'"

For a moment, Neal's brain froze. He knew he didn't want to share his real contemplations, so he simply widened his smile and replied casually, "What do you think? I meet a beautiful young woman at a museum and invite her to lunch in Paris, the love capital of the world."

Jessica raised an eyebrow and stated sarcastically, "Riiiight. And, I'm just going to forget about everything you said in the Louvre. Your eyes are quite pretty, Chris, but they're not enough for me to do anything _that_ stupid."

Again, she had impressed him despite her earlier less than stellar performance in the gallery. He laughed a little and decided to be a little truthful. He leaned forward in his seat and said matter-of-factly, "You and I were at the Louvre for the same reasons today." He leaned back and rested both of his hands on the table around his empty plate as the waiter walked up to ask them if they would like to try the wine he was carrying.

When they agreed, the waiter swiftly filled their wine glasses and then walked away after getting their order.

There was only a slight silence before Jessica asked softly, "Why are you telling me this?"

Neal stared at her, trying to get a good read of her. She had innocent down pat. He had seen that from the beginning, so he knew he had to be cautious but he decided to proceed anyway. Not quite answering her question yet, he inquired, "Do you have partners?"

"What?"

He smirked. "Are you working with anyone in regards to the job we were doing earlier?"

"Oh," she said, looking down at the table. "No. I just…I don't even know if I would have done anything. I…"

Neal waved his hand once to cut off her answer. He wasn't going to tell her, but he knew she was lying.

=)=)=)

Peter stood on Orsay Street and stared at the Eiffel Tower that stood perhaps two miles away. It was hard to stare at anything else as he walked the streets of Paris, but when El finally grabbed his arm and said, "Here it is", he easily turned his attention to the sight before him: the Louvre.

Staring at the establishment, he couldn't help but feel closer to Neal. He knew Neal stood at this very spot a year ago and walked into that building. He would even dare to say that his partner and friend had walked in there more than once. And, while he knew Neal probably wasn't inside now, it was still a place to start in his search for him…the only place he could start. It was the only clue he had.

He breathed deeply and then looked at El and their son. "This is it," he whispered.

When his wife smiled and nodded, he crossed the street and made his way to the entrance. Once they stepped inside, before Peter could say anything else, El whispered, "Neal and I will go admire the art while you go flash your badge around."

Peter smiled, so glad that El understood his game plan without even telling her. While he didn't have jurisdiction here at all, he was hoping the museum's curators would be willing to talk to him. Without hesitation after his wife walked away, he found the nearest security guard, flashed his badge, and stated, "I need to speak with a curator."

=)=)=)

Peter was escorted to Blaise Ducos' office. As soon as he stepped inside, a white man with dark brown hair, who was in his mid- to late-thirties, rose and stood to greet him.

"Agent Burke, please, come in and sit down," the curator stated warmly in English. He grabbed Peter's hand and shook it awkwardly in several large but sharp shakes.

"Thank you," Peter replied, smiling genuinely at the man.

He had hoped since he had arrived in Paris that it would be this easy to talk to one of the curators, but of course, when operations involved Neal in any capacity, things never went according to plan, so he had been expecting some opposition. At that moment, he did have to remind himself that he hadn't even started asking any questions yet, so things could still go badly from this point forward.

"What can I do for you, agent? It's not often we get a visit from the FBI in any official capacity."

Peter didn't tell anyone that this was official FBI business, but he wasn't about to correct their assumption either. If that was why everyone was helping him without much resistance, he would continue to allow them to believe as they wished. Taking a deep breath, he pulled something from the inside of his jacket pocket to show Ducos. He stared down at the picture briefly-it was what El had called their 'prom picture' since they were in tuxes-before handing it to the curator. Without waiting for a reaction, he stated, "There is a man in this picture with me. I would like to know if you have seen him and perhaps when that occasion might have been."

Peter watched as Ducos looked at the picture and shockingly, there was an immediate reaction of recognition. As a trained FBI agent, Peter knew that look from anywhere. His heart sped up as the curator looked up from the picture only a few seconds later and nodded. "Of course, this is Chris Nix."

Before Peter could feel any sort of elation from getting confirmation that Neal was indeed alive and he had even gotten the name of his new alias, he saw a look of genuine apprehension flash across Ducos' face.

"Is everything all right with Mr. Nix, sir?" the curator asked. "We have been very concerned about his absence. We knew he was planning on laying low for a while and then completing the project, but we didn't expect for it to be this long. Has something happened? Is that why you're here?"

Peter stared at the man, almost dumbfounded. He had no idea what Ducos was talking about, but it felt like a huge blow to his gut. He felt like he had been seconds away from finding Neal, only to discover that he had gotten away…again.

=)=)=)

_Let me know what you think, please! I hope you enjoyed it!_


	5. Chapter 5

_Thank you to those who are reading and/or commenting. It means a lot._

Finding What's Lost Chapter 5

Peter swallowed roughly to remove the sizeable lump that had suddenly gathered in his throat. He knew he had to handle whatever he said from this point forward delicately. He had a feeling that if Ducos had any inclination that he didn't know about Neal's project with the Lourve, the curator would become uncooperative.

Breathing slowly out of his nose so he wouldn't look as nervous and anxious as he felt, he replied, "Actually, that's what I'm here to find out. Mr. Nix also helps the FBI." He paused to let the younger man digest that bit of information. It wasn't a lie, really. Of course, he said it in the present tense instead of past, but as Neal had always stated, " _The best lies always held a little truth_." He noticed that Ducos was waiting for him to continue, so he added, "He's been missing as you have also pointed out. We thought maybe he became a little too absorbed in what he was doing here. You know how single-minded he can sometimes become."

Immediately, Ducos nodded and said, "Yes, we have all noticed that. But, now that you know he's not here, should we be concerned? I don't mean about the museum, of course. Mr. Nix has done an incredible job with our security. We believe it's nearly impenetrable, but should we be worried about him? Do you have any other ideas where he might be?"

Peter couldn't answer right away as he now absorbed what Ducos had revealed. Neal had been the one to tighten security at the Louvre! He felt an immediate burst of pride in his chest, but it was then quickly squelched with concern when he remembered that Neal was missing after doing this good deed.

Trying to put all the clues together to figure out where he should go from here, he realized he needed to know what other project Neal could possibly have with the Louvre since he had already completed the security upgrade. Before he knew what he was doing, Peter asked the question aloud.

Ducos' expression tightened and sharpened for a mere second before he sighed reluctantly and answered. "He was going to check his own security. He warned us that he would try to break into the museum and take something. He said he would lay low for a while, so we wouldn't know when to expect him. It's been…quite a while. We honestly have no idea when he will strike. Most of the curators believe the long hiatus is part of his plan: stay away so long that all the security guards will relax. I admit I've had my doubts. Something about this just doesn't feel right and now that you're here…"

Ducos' silence obviously indicated that he wanted the FBI agent to say something to lay all his worries and insecurities about the situation to rest, but Peter had no idea what to say. He felt exactly the same way the curator did. It was quite possible that Neal was laying low for a while to take everyone's guard down, but what if there was another reason? Neal had a habit of getting himself into trouble at any time.

He shook his head and replied, "I honestly have no idea, but I can promise you that when I know something, I'll let you know." He paused and even though he knew it was a fruitless question, he asked anyway. "Do you happen to know where…Mr. Nix is staying?"

Ducos shook his head. "No. The place he listed in our records is no longer occupied. Of course, it makes sense that if he's going to try to break into Lourve, he wouldn't want us spying on him, so he might have moved. Of course, maybe that's me giving him too much credit. I don't know."

Peter laughed and said almost to himself, "No, you're not giving him too much credit. But that's assuming he even gave you the right address in the first place." He stood up and extended his hand. "Thank you, Mr. Ducos. You have been very helpful."

The curator also rose and shook the agent's hand. "Thank you, Agent Burke. Please let us know when you find him. If he's still working on our project, just give us a quick phone call and let us know he's okay." He then gave him a card.

Before he left the office, Peter pocketed it, nodded, and replied, "I will. Thank you."

=)=)=)

Peter walked onto the main floor of the Louvre and scanned the crowd, looking for his wife and son. When he spotted them, he quickly crossed the room. He couldn't speak. Instead, he pulled El towards him as he laid a hand soothingly on Neal's back and kissed his wife softly.

When they parted, she smiled and asked hopefully, "Good news?"

He nodded. "He goes by Chris Nix here. While they have no idea where he is now," he paused to look around at the security cameras and protective barriers around each piece of art, "he's left his mark here. He's the one who improved their security."

El's eyes widened and Peter laughed.

"I know. El…Neal, he's…doing it. He's doing the right thing here. He's using his skills for good."

Tears gathered in El's eyes and Peter didn't know the same could be said about him until a single tear slid down his cheek and El wiped it away quickly. He pulled his family to him again and hugged them tightly. Despite this touching moment and how much he loved his family, he truly wanted to be hugging Neal right now.

The thought quickly sobered him and he pulled away. He stared at El and said, "But he's missing again. They have no idea where he is now, but I'm going to find him, El."

She smiled as she laid her hand across his cheek and whispered, "Of course, you are, hon. I don't have any doubts and I'm sure Neal doesn't either."

=)=)=)

_I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I know this has brought up a lot of question. If Neal has chosen this project with the Louvre, why is he so hesitant in completing the project? Why does he keep questioning who he really is? Those answers, among others, are coming soon. Sorry that I have to put that teaser here, but I wanted to make sure people knew I'm aware of the confusion, haha. It's intentional._

_Anyway, sorry that Neal is not in this chapter, but I wanted to save what happens next for him in the next chapter!_

_Please, let me know what you think!_


	6. Chapter 6

Finding What’s Lost Chapter 6

Neal walked into his apartment and sighed as he saw Mozzie sitting at his dining room table with his arms crossed tightly against his chest. With only a slight hitch in his progress, Neal moved through the room and mumbled exasperatedly, “What did I do now?” He took off his hat and glasses and set them on the table as he walked by his visitor. He rubbed the bridge of his nose before he grabbed a wine glass from a nearby cabinet and helped himself to the bottle of Cabernet that his friend was currently working on.

Mozzie’s eyes narrowed as he watched Neal pour a glass and asked, “Did you at least learn anything useful?”

Sitting down, Neal shrugged. He didn’t have to ask what Moz was referring to—he expected the questions, so he slipped easily into the conversation. “Her name is Jessica,” he answered, “and she was definitely casing the Louvre.” He hesitated for a moment before adding, “But she didn’t want to admit to having partners.” He shook his head in frustration and continued, almost to himself, “I know she’s working with somebody. The question is who?

Mozzie leaned back in his seat and seemed to study Neal, but he kept whatever he was thinking to himself. “What do you want to do?”

He shrugged again. “It does complicate matters. I don’t want our plans foiled by whatever Jessica has planned. She’s probably going to get caught if she tries anything, so if we just wait it out, the problem will most likely straighten itself out…but the Louvre’s security is top notch. We need a team and we don’t have as many connections here as we did in New York. We could use Jessica if only we could figure out who she is working with and if they are approachable.”

Moz finished his glass of wine and set it on the table. “I think we should leave her to her own devices.” When Neal arched an eyebrow, Moz quickly exclaimed, “Trust no one! Words to live by.”

Neal couldn’t help the smirk that crossed his face. “Quoting The X-Files now, Moz?”

His friend leaned forward and countered, “It is said by many, Neal, and with good reason. We don’t know a thing about this Jessica. And, I hate to point this out, mon frère, but your usual downfall in plans like this is involving the fairer sex. If she has partners, we have no idea what we’re getting ourselves into if you continue to involve yourself with her. It’s not a smart decision.”

Neal looked up at the ceiling and moved his eyes across it, clearly showing his frustration. “I don’t want Jessica and whoever she is working with breaking into the Louvre.” He said it in such a way that it was obvious Neal considered this a confession.

“What do you mean? If you’re concerned that this will put off our plans, maybe that’s for the best. It’s not like we need to supplement our income just yet. We can watch what they do and see what to avoid. Our attempt will be better when we see their mistakes.”

Neal lowered his gaze and stared at Moz. “I just don’t want them making the attempt before we do. If they make the attempt at all, I’d rather they do it with me, so I know what they’re after and what they’re up to.”

“Why does it even matter?” Moz cried. “Their botched attempt will fail more than likely. They’re amateurs!” He paused and commented, “I’ve never seen you this territorial before.”

When Neal didn’t reply, Moz got up and said, “Well, I’ll let you stew over that while I head over to talk to the few contacts we _do_ have in Paris. If what they’re after is so important to you, I’ll see if anyone has heard anything on the streets.”

Neal didn’t respond, because he was afraid of what he might say if he did try to explain his motives to his friend. When he heard his front door shut, Neal leaned over the table and rested his forehead against his hands in deep contemplation.

=)=)=)

There was a hint of rain in the distance when Peter, El, and their son stepped out of the museum. Peter didn’t know what his next course of action would be to find Neal, but he knew what he needed to do at that particular moment. He glanced at his wife and son and whispered, “Let’s get you two back to the hotel. We’ll start fresh in the morning when we aren’t so tired.”

El sighed gratefully and nodded. As she slipped her hand into her husband’s, she asked softly, “Any ideas where you’re going to look next?”

He shrugged and answered truthfully, “I’ll think of something. It’s just difficult here when I don’t have the FBI’s resources. But I found Neal in Cape Verde and I’ll do it here, too.”

Without any other word, they turned east, towards the Eiffel Tower, and walked with the flow of traffic. As they walked, El pointed out several places that interested her, and while Peter did hear what she was saying, his mind was preoccupied with other thoughts. He noticed the places around him, as well, but he was on the lookout for places that would interest Neal. Maybe he could flash Neal’s picture around in some establishments and someone would recognize him, know where he lives or where he is generally found during daylight or nighttime hours.

Breaking him out of his thoughts, Peter could hear thunder behind him growing louder, so he instinctively grabbed El by the arm and picked up the pace slightly. He wanted to get his family back to the hotel where it was safe and dry before the storm started. El followed his lead and matched his stride for several blocks when she gasped and stopped in the middle of the street abruptly.

“Hon?” Peter asked as he looked back. Their arms were still connected, but she wasn’t budging an inch.

El looked at Peter quickly and then back into the swarm of people across the street. “Hon, I thought…” She looked back at Peter again and said, “I think I just saw Mozzie.” Without any warning, El ran across the street and started heading back in the direction of the Louvre.”

Peter quickly joined her and grabbed her by the arm. “Hon!”

She didn’t allow Peter to slow her down. She merely glanced at him as she kept moving forward and nearly shouted, “This is the break we need if we’re going to find Neal. It was Moz—I know it was!”

Peter was taller than El, so he was able to scan the street ahead of them and sure enough, through the crowd, maybe a block away, he saw a small, bald frame that just might be Haversham. While continuing to move, he told his wife, “I see him, hon. I’ll continue to follow. You take Neal to the hotel.”

“But, hon…,” El huffed.

Before she could say anything else, Peter stopped and said, “It’s about to storm. I want you and Neal inside when it hits. Please.” He looked up at the skies and then down the street at the person who might be Mozzie.

El sighed in frustration because she knew the look on her husband’s face. He was so stubborn! Either they would separate here or Peter would take them back to the hotel himself and try to find Moz another day. She couldn’t allow this opportunity to pass by, so she simply shouted, “Go!” She pushed him with her arm that wasn’t holding their son. “I’ll see you at the hotel later! Go find Neal!”

Without any further encouragement, Peter took off running.


	7. Chapter 7

Finding What's Lost Chapter 7

Peter could not believe his luck. If El was right, Mozzie was twenty feet ahead of him, and hopefully, he wouldn't disappear before he could reach him! His instincts in this situation told him to call out to Mozzie to stop him, but he knew the con's instincts would be to run. Honestly, he was surprised that the shorter man hadn't tried to lose him yet. If it was Moz, he knew the man would be paranoid and might actually catch on to the fact that he was being followed.

Almost as if he could hear Peter's thoughts, Mozzie turned down an alleyway abruptly. Peter followed and luckily, Moz hadn't disappeared. He was standing outside an unmarked door, knocking on it softly. Peter heard a muffled voice from the other side say something, but before Moz could utter any kind of password, he called out, "Mozzie!"

Obviously shocked, Moz turned around, confirming his identity. "Suit!" he exclaimed.

Peter watched as the conman looked around frantically. It was obvious he was looking for an escape plan. "Please!" he yelled. "Don't leave!" He ran to him as the other backed up and grabbed his arm to stop him from running. "Is he here?" Peter looked at the door hopefully.

Moz paused and visibly made himself relax: he rolled his shoulders back forcibly and then slouched as he let out a loud breath. "Who?" he asked calmly.

Peter pressed his lips together firmly and stared him down. He knew now that Mozzie had no intention of telling him what he wanted to know. "You know who," he answered. He glanced back at the door. "I was hoping I could reveal my presence to you and we could walk in there together to greet Neal, but if you're going to make this difficult, I'll do the same. Either way, I'm going in there."

"He's not inside, Suit," Mozzie said calmly. "As a matter of fact, he's not..."

Peter knew the shorter man was about to claim that Neal was dead, and it annoyed him immensely. "Mozzie, you know as well as I do that you helped me find Neal's storage shed. You left the wine bottle for me to find before you left New York. Neal and you obviously wanted me to know he's still alive, so stop playing games and help me find him."

The two stared at each other for several long seconds before Moz sighed and replied, "He really isn't here." He gestured towards the door. "This is...a friend's establishment."

"A friend?" Peter looked suspicious.

Moz spread his arms out wide and corrected, "Fine, an acquaintance, a colleague."

Peter didn't acknowledge his words. He just stared back towards the street and then back at him. He raised his eyes wide and asked authoritatively, "Where is he, Mozzie?"

=)=)=)

The rain was pouring down in large sheets. Every few minutes, it seemed like they might receive a reprieve from it, but then it would start all over again with renewed fury. Neal stared out the window. He wasn't looking at the streets. There were only a few out and most were rushing or carrying umbrellas, so it wasn't worth studying them. So, instead, he stared at the sky.

Hearing the door behind him open, Neal widened his eyes slightly and said, "I'm surprised you came back in weather like this, Moz." He turned his head slightly and saw a wet Mozzie walking in.

Neal immediately turned his attention back to the storm as Mozzie replied, "Something came up. I wasn't able to speak with Miguel."

Neal shrugged and mumbled, "There's always tomorrow."

Moz approached him and stated, "Maybe not even then, mon frère."

"What makes you say that?" Neal asked. He paused when he turned to look at his friend and noticed his attention was back towards the door. Slowly, Neal followed his gaze and he couldn't stop the sharp inhale of breath that lodged in his throat painfully.

Standing beside the open door, drenched from head to toe, was none other than Peter Burke. They both stared at each other for several seconds before Neal was able to finally let the trapped air out of his lungs. He turned to face him fully and gasped softly, "Peter?"

The FBI agent smiled and replied, "Neal." After a brief pause, he added, "Or should I say Chris?"

Neal immediately looked over at Mozzie, who shrugged, and then waved his hand towards Peter, almost as if he were giving the younger man permission to act.

Immediately, Neal began to move and walked hurriedly to Peter on shaky legs. There was no hesitancy or attention paid to Peter's clothes and the fact that Neal would also get wet—Neal immediately wrapped his arms around his former partner and hugged him tightly. When he felt Peter close his arms around him and pat him on the back firmly a few times, tears pooled to his eyes.

"Peter," he mumbled again and closed his eyes tightly when he heard the answering laugh.

"Is that all you can say?"

Neal pulled away slowly, feeling almost a little embarrassed by his reactions, until he looked at Peter—his face was covered with tears, as well, and more were gathering in his eyes. And, he looked just as embarrassed as Neal felt.

Neal wiped at his eyes as Peter did the same silently. When they both looked back at each other again, Neal smiled brightly and said, "Took you long enough."

Peter shook his head with a smirk on his face and responded, "Hey, you made it hard this time. Regardless, I believe this makes me…what? 4-0? It's hard to remember. I catch you so often."

Neal snorted amusedly and then asked abruptly, wiping all expression from his face. "Is that what this is, Peter? Are you here to catch me and take me back to the States?"

Peter stared at Neal for several seconds before sighing deeply, turning around, and walking away slowly. Neal didn't move towards Peter or away from his spot. He merely continued to watch Peter. When his friend slowly turned back towards him, he shook his head, flapped his arms out, and then back down before answering, "I don't know, Neal. I came to Paris to find you. That's why I'm here. What we do now, I have no clue."

The two went back to staring at each other and Neal could tell Peter was turning the question of what they would do now over his mind just as he was. Regardless of any answer they came up with, he knew things were about to get interesting.


End file.
